


Wool/Silk Blend

by AdamantSteve



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Frottage, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Suit Porn, Tailoring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil helps Steve dress for a photoshoot. Clint retaliates by buying a suit of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wool/Silk Blend

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a post on tumblr of Chris Evans in a particularly sharp suit :)  
> Betaed by Dunicha.

It was just as bad as Clint had expected - a man pretty much attacking him with a tape measure and asking questions Clint had no hope of answering. In the end he'd just had to level with the guy. "Listen, I don't know anything about suits, or tailoring, or silk/wool blends or whatever the hell, I'm just here cause I want my ass to look amazing and to make my boyfriend jealous."

He felt like kind of a jerk snapping the way he did, but the guy had smiled, closed his eyes in understanding and said 'I _see_ ,' before cheerfully finishing the job. 

 

And Clint's ass did look amazing. 

 

He'd worn suits before, on missions mostly, though Clint thought of Tony's galas or SHIELD shindigs as missions too, so it was strange to just be walking around in a suit for no real _reason_ , with no one in his ear or by his side telling him how to act. He caught a cab back to the tower to avoid blisters from the smart dress shoes, which felt like a wild extravagance all its own, and then wandered around the coffee shops and lunch places near the tower before going up, getting a feel for the suit on his own terms. His hair seemed too messy for it every time he caught sight of himself in a store window, but perhaps it worked. 

 

He checked out his ass in the elevator mirror and nodded in approval. Yes, this would do nicely. 

 

When the door opened on the communal floor, Phil was leaning over the coffee table and chatting with Steve. When Clint got closer he could see what they were talking about - the photographs of Steve in his stupid new suit. The suit Phil had been fawning over for weeks. Clint took a breath and then headed towards the kitchen, purely because doing so had him walking directly through Phil's eyeline. 

 

The conversation ground to a satisfying halt as both men stared after him. Clint opened the fridge and then bent down to needlessly inspect the vegetable drawer at the bottom, hiding his grin at the sharp intake of breath behind him. He might have wiggled a tiny bit before straightening back up, though he would most likely deny it.

 

When he turned around, both Phil and Cap were staring at him. "Oh, hey guys," Clint said, nonchalantly nudging the fridge closed with his hip. 

 

"Where did you get that suit?" Phil asked, the photos and the man beside him forgotten.

 

Clint shrugged. "Had it made." 

 

"You had a suit made?" Phil's voice was a higher register than it usually was, and Steve raised his eyebrows as he looked between them. Clint barely noticed him, and Phil most certainly didn't. 

 

Clint shrugged again. "Yeah, went for the double vent in the back, narrow cut pant," he hummed as if the random details (gleaned from the tailor at the last fitting) were a trifling bit of minutia that wasn't intended to have Phil salivating the way that it was. 

 

"Uh," said Steve, looking between them before gathering the prints together and awkwardly standing up to leave. "Thanks, Phil, I'll email the editor." 

 

"Uh huh," Phil replied absently, eyes still roving over Clint as Steve made his exit. Clint tried not to preen but couldn't help himself, shucking his cuffs as he walked over like some cheesy James Bond. Phil kept _looking_ , eyes drinking in every inch of the new suit, his expression caught halfway between betrayal and wonder. 

 

"I thought you hated suits," Phil murmured once Clint was standing in front of him. "You _do_ hate suits." 

"But you don't." Clint hesitantly smiled. He suddenly wasn't sure if this was the good idea he'd thought was, with the way Phil's forehead was wrinkling. 

"I wanted to -" Phil gestured at Clint, "- do that." 

 

Clint couldn't help himself, mouth sliding into a smirk. "You _can_ do this."

Phil glared at him momentarily and then began to smile before being distracted again, eyes sweeping down the neat line of Clint's lapels to the one button at the front Clint had done up. "Turn around."

 

Clint complied, looking over his shoulder to watch the way Phil was studying him. As he watched, Phil licked his lips and absently pressed a hand to his crotch; by the looks of it he was more than a little bit hard. Considering they were in the communal area and Phil would barely hold Clint's hand in front of anyone else, this was quite the overt display. 

 

"Phil?" Clint said quietly, turning back around and knocking Phil out of his trance. "Are you mad at me?"

Phil blinked and drew himself back together. "I'm fine. Uh. You should… um … We should go to our suite. I think." 

 

Phil walked close behind Clint on the way, most likely to avoid passersby seeing the way his pants were betraying what was beneath them. Clint felt almost drunk with hitherto unknown power. Phil liked him in the suits he'd worn on missions before, labouring over tying Clint's tie and endlessly brushing invisible lint from Clint's shoulders, but this was something else. 

 

They were barely inside their suite before Phil had pulled Clint in by the lapels to kiss him roughly, almost knocking him off balance. Clint grabbed for Phil's shoulders to steady himself and kissed back, but as soon as he did, Phil pulled away and smoothed Clint down again. He patted the lapels flat and visibly regrouped, smoothing his hands over the pocket square and down to the buttons on the front. He did up the second button and smoothed his hands over that too before finally raising his eyes to meet Clint's. 

 

"You went to a tailor without me," he said reprovingly. 

 

Clint widened his eyes and looked suitably contrite. "I'm sorry." 

 

Phil huffed quietly and again slid his hands down over Clint's lapels again, watching his hands move as he did so. "You should take it off," he said, meeting Clint's gaze with quiet promise in his eyes. "Slowly." 

 

Oh. It was like that.

 

Clint swallowed, mouth dry as he nodded. His hands fell to his sides as Phil stepped away and then spasmed when Phil sat and unzipped his fly. He didn't do anything else - didn't pull his cock out or start jerking off, just sat waiting for Clint to get naked. 

 

"C'mon," Phil said. "Take it off." 

 

"I thought you liked it," Clint said, slowly turning. "You sure you want me to take it off?" 

 

Phil narrowed his eyes and purred. "I hate it." He raised an eyebrow at Clint as if challenging him to argue. Clint had no intention of arguing with him. 

 

He unbuttoned the jacket quickly before Phil shook his head. "Slow."

 

Clint suppressed an eyeroll and very slowly removed the jacket, watching Phil all the while. He still wasn't touching himself, but his fingers were most definitely digging into the armrests of the chair. "Hang it over the back of that chair," Phil said, pointing to one opposite him. Clint did as he was told, making a show of bending over to place it down as neatly as possible. He heard Phil make a small noise of approval before turning around again. 

 

“Shoes,” Phil said next. “And your socks.” 

Clint bent over whilst he carefully untied them, making sure his ass was pointed right at Phil as he did so. "Tie," Phil said next, one hand moving down to knead himself through his underwear. Undoing a tie was a pain in the first place, trying to undo one whilst being distracted by your boyfriend playing with himself was another matter. But Phil didn't seem to mind Clint's clumsiness too much. "Vest," was next, button by button undone as Phil pulled himself free of his pants and began stroking himself. Then Clint's shirt (a bitten off moan at the sight of the cufflinks), til all that was left was the pants. 

 

Phil apparently didn't want those gone just yet. "Turn around," he said softly. tipping his head to one side as Clint complied. He hummed in approval and Clint could hear his hand speeding up, feeling almost like he was being cheated at not getting to watch. 

 

"Take them off," Phil said behind him. "Make it count." 

 

Clint didn't know what 'make it count' meant, but he made his movements slow and slid the pants off with measured grace, bending down to step out of them before looking back over his shoulder. Phil nodded towards the rest of the clothes, so Clint quietly folded the pants and added them to the semi-neat pile before turning in just his underwear to face Phil. He was, predictably, hard as a rock. 

"And those," Phil said, though he didn't complain when Clint didn't make quite as much of a show of things with his underwear. 

 

Phil's eyes grazed his erection before looking back up Clint's body with a proprietary gaze. "That's better. Come here." Clint sheepishly came over and began to kneel in front of Phil, since it seemed like the most obvious place to go, but Phil shook his head. "No, _here_ ," he gestured to his lap and then reached for Clint, pulling him close once Clint had slid his knees into the space either side of Phil's hips. He ran his hands over Clint's chest where the lapels would have been and down over his nipples. "That's much better." 

 

Clint leaned in to kiss him, but Phil leaned away. "Tell me you're mine," Phil said, eyes cold for the briefest moment, as if such a thing could ever be in question. As if he thought that Clint might say no. 

 

"Of course, Phil. Always." Phil's hands slid around Clint's waist and pulled him closer, their erections pressing against each other. He nosed into Clint's neck, breathing in and sighing before leaning back and licking his lips, like he needed to do so to recharge before continuing. Clint slowly drew back enough to get at Phil's shirt, unbuttoning it quickly so he could slip his hands beneath the fabric and feel the heat of Phil's skin. 

 

Phil sighed and closed his eyes, wrapping one hand around both their cocks between them before looking down. "You're perfect," he whispered.

 

"I'm up here," Clint joked, making Phil pull him in to kiss him again, moving his hand just so. It was too dry like that, so Clint spat into his hand before wrapping it around them as well, eating up the soft sigh that escaped Phil's lips.

 

"You're mine too, right?" Clint said once they'd broken apart to pant into one anothers mouths as their movements sped up.

 

Phil huffed and it turned into a lilting laugh, cut off by a sigh as Clint spat into his hand again. "Forever, Clint," he moaned when Clint gripped them both again before repeating, "forever." 

 

Clint came first, bucking into both their hands and practically collapsing over Phil before he came racing after with a stuttering moan. Phil slid his clean hand up Clint's back to rub there, a soothing, welcome touch that had grounded Clint countless times before. 

 

When he'd gathered enough breath to be able to talk, Clint leaned back. 

"Did you really hate the suit?" 

Phil started laughing before shaking his head, pulling Clint close to kiss him some more. "It's obscene. I'm not sure if I want you to wear it all the time or only in the confines of our bedroom."

Clint grinned and brushed their cheeks together before kissing Phil again. "Whatever you say, boss." 

 

 

 

 


End file.
